


Trust Me

by scaitereels



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-14 03:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaitereels/pseuds/scaitereels
Summary: After Season 1 of The Punisher and during Season 3 of Daredevil, these two were hanging out. I just know it. Just because it wasn't on screen doesn't mean it didn't happen.A mostly canon-compliant version of Frank and Karen's relationship as she navigates the events of Daredevil Season 3.





	1. Prologue (Post-Punisher S1)

Once he was finally done with Agent Madani and all the bureaucratic bullshit at the Department of Homeland Security, his first thought was a guilty one.

_Shit. She probably thinks I’m dead. Again._

And Frank Castle, of all people, knew how it felt to be torn apart by loss and grief. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t think he meant that much to Karen, not like his family meant to him. But he knew that after Matt’s mysterious disappearance, Karen Page was already having a shitty year. And he didn’t want to add to that, not any more than he already had.

He kept trying to think of some clever or at least gentle way of letting her know, but he didn’t want to leave anything in writing, and his time with David had made him suspicious of anything digital. So he finally just grabbed an extra cup of coffee one Saturday morning and knocked on her apartment door, hoping she was home and alone and not too pissed at him.

He knocked gently, tentatively, wincing to himself as he thought about whether she’d yell, because he definitely deserved it. His stomach lurched as he heard soft footsteps approach the door, and he had to consciously loosen his death grip around the fragile cardboard coffee cups. 

He heard the footsteps pause, and he held the coffee up as a peace offering as he looked into the peephole, hoping she would have pity on him and at least let him in to talk.

He was in luck. He heard the rattle of deadbolts and chains, and the door swung open to reveal Karen Page, in fuzzy socks, sweatpants, and a t-shirt, lunging for his arm.

“Holy shit, what the hell are you doing out here?” she hissed.

Karen dragged him inside, looking up and down the hall before closing the door and fastening all of the locks and leaving him completely speechless in her apartment entryway.

“Is it even safe for you to be here? Were you followed?”

“Um, yeah, of course it’s safe. I wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t, Karen.”

“I mean, I know you wouldn’t lead anyone here on purpose Frank, but Jesus!” She was walking into her apartment, and he didn’t know what to do, so he followed her blindly, hoping he could give her the coffee soon and get one of his hands back. “The entire carousel shot up, news reports saying you’re dead again, which, you know, I figured had to be exaggerated at best because no one seemed to have a body to show me – “

“You asked to see my body?”

“Frank. Of course I did. You’re my friend, and I’m the reporter who’s pretty permanently assigned to the vigilante beat at _The Bulletin_. And I know better than anyone that when the Department of Homeland Security says that they aren’t releasing any details because of an ongoing investigation, that you can’t trust them for shit.”

They had ended up in her living room, with Karen pacing in front of her window while Frank stood awkwardly, as far away from her as he could. She paused for breath, and finally took a closer look at him. The deep bruising on his face. And the cups in his hands.

“You brought me coffee?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t know what you like, but … Yeah. Wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” She walked over to him. He didn’t back away, but he wanted to. “What for?”

“I mean, for everything. Shit, last time I saw you, Page, I pointed a gun at your head so I could get away from the cops. I owe you more than just coffee, but I figured, it’s a start.”

She smiled, a small and almost humorless grin, but a smile all the same. “What did you get me?”

“Uh … nothing fancy. It’s just black. But a good roast. From an annoying hipster place in Brooklyn. But it’s good.”

“Sounds perfect.” She reached out her hands, then looked at him, making sure this cup was the right one. Frank nodded at her, and he could feel his stomach begin to unclench as she took the cup, removed the lid, and inhaled.

“Frank, this smells like heaven.”

“I told you. Fancy, but good.”

“I don’t know, I think maybe in this case, fancy is worth it.” She walked over to the couch, curled herself into one corner, and patted the back. “Why don’t you sit down, let me drink your heaven coffee, and explain to me why the Department of Homeland Security faked your death?”

He sighed. It looked like he wasn’t going to get yelled at, but he was going to go through a round of questioning from a professional reporter. He wasn’t off the hook yet.

* * *

“What the HELL were you thinking, Frank Castle?!”

Ok, maybe he got excited too soon. Karen was definitely yelling.

“You basically lured them ON PURPOSE TO MAIM YOU TO DEATH and without David and Madani’s very convenient and last-minute help would have DIED are you KIDDING ME Frank?!”

There didn’t seem to be much he could say to that. So he didn’t say anything. The coffee he brought was gone by now, but he had kept talking, figuring that if Karen wanted to know what happened, it was the least he could offer her. Still, he wished there were some way to show her that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

“But Karen –”

“Oh no. Don’t you offer me any kind of bullshit about ‘Only I could do this, it had to be me’ or any more of that hero crap. No. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong. Not about that part of it, anyway.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “So I assume it was Madani who made sure that Frank Castle is officially dead?”

He nodded again. “Yup. Even set me up with a new ID. You’re speaking to Pete Castiglione.”

Karen huffed a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Pete. I guess. Maybe you’ll be less COLOSSALLY STUPID than my friend Frank!”

He sighed. “Look, Karen, probably my life is gonna be real boring now, ok? You happy?”

She looked at him. She ran her eyes over his yellowing, bruised eye sockets, the cuts on his neck, and thought about all the injuries she couldn’t see under his jacket. She crossed her arms. “I guess. I’ll believe that when I see it, but yeah, I think boring is a really good idea.”

Frank sighed again. He figured that was about as much approval as he was going to get. And really, that was plenty. More than he deserved.

“Well, does Pete need anything? Do you have a place to stay? A job?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, not really, but I’m staying in David’s guest room right now, and I just got hired. Construction. I’ve done it before, and I like it. I like working with my hands, being outside. And after a couple weeks, I can move in somewhere. I don’t need much.”

Karen smiled again. “I’m sure you don’t need much. But please, don’t worry about asking for help if you need it. You’ve been through a lot. You’re gonna need furniture, clothes, kitchen stuff, everything. And you’re going to be figuring out how to start a life, a normal life, again. I can only imagine what it’s gonna be like, but I’m guessing it’s gonna be hard.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll manage.” 

After a brief silence, Karen smiled, shook her head, and got up, clearly looking for something as she walked around the room. “You got a phone, Pete?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Shitty one. But, you know. It rings.”

“And really, that’s all you need!” She had found her phone in the kitchen, and came back to the couch, handing it to him as she sat down. “Put in your number. And pick a date on the calendar in about three weeks. Whenever you think you’ll have your new place. I’d love to help you set it up, if you want.”

Frank couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

They settled on another Saturday, and she began walking him to the door. Just before he said goodbye, an uncomfortable thought occurred to him, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Uh, Karen? Thank you. Thank you for helping me. I just … I gotta ask … Um. I, uh …”

“Spit it out, Frank.”

“Right. That is … all this stuff about Russo, and Madani, and the name I’m using now. It can’t … I mean, it’s from DHS, so I’m not supposed to tell …”

“Oh, you mean in _The Bulletin_? Oh, of course not! Of course not, Frank.”

Once again, his stomach eased.

“I know that what you told me, you told me as a friend. I’m much more worried about keeping you safe from people who would want you dead. Don’t worry.” Karen bit her lip. “I know that … I know that you don’t have many people in your life you can trust, Frank. And it means a lot that I am one of those people to you. I’m not gonna mess that up.”

The narrow hallway filled with the same kind of crackling energy that Frank remembered from being with her on that damn elevator. He had been falling to pieces, and he still couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for her. He reached out now, pulling her close. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had touched someone to care for them and not to kill them. It was just a hug, but to him, it felt like coming up for air.

Karen’s arms went around him, hugging him back, gentle against the layers of bandages that she could feel. When he pulled away, her hand went to his cheek for a moment, her eyes trying to read his expression. She was satisfied enough with what she saw, at least enough to smile, drop her hand, and say, “Take care of yourself, Frank.”

As he walked to the train, he felt better than he had in days. Karen didn’t hate him. In fact, she was going to see him again. She wanted to see him again. He had a new life, and she wanted to be a part of it.


	2. Resurrection (Episode 1)

When Frank got his first paycheck, he felt the lurch of something that might have been something close to, maybe something a little bit like, excitement.

Now he could put down first month’s rent and a deposit down on a new place. He could stop tiptoeing around the Lieberman house, trying to make himself scarce as David navigated his return to his family, trying not to remind them that the Punisher was sleeping just off the living room. And that meant that next week, he would see Karen again. For the whole morning. 

He had convinced his boss that if he could make a good impression during his first two weeks, he could get the next two weeks’ pay in advance. So he busted his ass, making sure that whether the others were watching him or not, he stayed busy and made himself useful. Frank didn’t mind the work. It kept his hands occupied, and his mind was empty when he could get himself physically tired. He knew that it was probably good for him to keep moving, so he kept moving.

His hard work paid off. The boss had kept his word. He asked why Frank wanted advance pay, and when Frank sheepishly admitted that he didn’t really have a place to stay at the moment, he had even offered him some extra hours as a part time gig doing demolition for renovation projects. 

“You’re strong, you don’t give nobody shit, and you ain’t a lazy fucker. I’ll give you that much, Pete. It’s my uncle’s business, and he’s always willing to pay a few extra bucks if I can find some guys to make their jobs go quicker. We could use you, if you want some more hours.”

Frank had been grateful. With the extra money, he might be able to get an apartment and eat more than rice and beans for the next month. Plus, he wanted to have a little bit leftover to go shopping with Karen. 

She was the first person he called, check in hand, excitement settling into his chest.

“Hey! Pete! Hold on a sec.”

It sounded like she was in the office, and she was definitely chewing something. He waited as he listened to the chattering in the background fade, a door close and block the rest of the sound out, and Karen come back on the line.

“Hey Frank. Sorry, I’m at work.”

“Not a problem, Karen. Thanks for keeping up the Pete thing, you know, when other people are around. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, of course! Mind if I keep eating? It’s my lunch break.”

“Jesus, Page, it’s 3:30.”

“Yeah, well, I got busy, and I forgot.”

Frank smiled. He had no difficulty imagining Karen looking through stacks of paper and hounding people with interview requests for hours, only looking up when she noticed she was starving.

“So, I’m calling ‘cause I’ve got some good news. I got a pay advance and some overtime, so I’m gonna look for a place this weekend. You still on for decorating tips?”

“Frank, that’s great! Yes, for sure. Not this weekend but next, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll find something by then.”

“Great. Well, I mean, maybe you won’t need much. What if you have roommates with their own stuff?”

Frank couldn’t stop his instantaneous reaction. “No fucking way.”

Karen was surprised into laughter, and Frank felt himself smile in response. “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t really imagine you hanging out in the living room with some 24-year-old barista and aspiring actor or something. But it’s hard to find an affordable place that’s not shared. You need help looking?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can find something. And you’re already doing enough.”

“Frank, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. If you need me, let me know.”

Frank’s stomach turned over. Did he need Karen Page? Probably. Yeah. Definitely. He wasn’t sure exactly the position she held in his life, but it sure felt good to have her reaching out to him, offering her help.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok. But, shit, what I need is furniture and, I don’t know, fuckin’ curtains and probably twelve other things I don’t even know about, so next weekend is probably still a good idea. If, if that’s ok.”

Karen laughed again. “Yes, you do need curtains. And some other stuff too. Even if there’s no real kitchen, try to make sure it has a sink, yeah? And then I’ll see you and your fancy new place next week.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you a picture when I’ve found something.”

“Ooo, yes! Then I can start planning! Yes, send me pictures. More than one angle, yeah? So I can see everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Thanks again, Karen.”

“Of course, Frank, happy to help. See you soon!”

She hung up the phone, back to her world at the paper, but happy to hear that he seemed to be adjusting to regular life. She smiled when she got a short email on Sunday from an account she didn’t know, that only said: “The camera on my phone is shit. Here’s the apartment listing for photos,” followed by a link and detailed measurements of the walls, windows, trim, and every part of the kitchenette in the small studio apartment in Queens that Pete Castiglione would be calling home.

* * *

The following Saturday, Frank was up early. He was oddly nervous about seeing Karen again. Maybe it wasn’t so odd. She was a beautiful woman, and she had agreed to spend part of the day with him, fixing up his bedroom. He was excited, and grateful, but it also felt intimate. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake.

He went for a run, trying to clear the fog from his head and get some of the anxiety eating away at him out of his system. But halfway through his route, he felt his phone buzz, and he stopped to look at the new message. It was Karen.

_You up? I hope so. I’m already thinking about curtains so if you don’t respond soon you’re gonna end up with some flowery girly shit_

He grinned and called her.

“You’re awake!”

“You don’t think I can handle girly shit, Page?”

“Uh, based on your big bad public image … yeah I’m gonna go with nope.”

“Yeah, ok, that’s fair. I mean, I did have to call in reinforcements just to put a one room apartment together, so, I feel like I don’t even know what flowery girly shit would look like. But it’s not my style, huh?”

“Definitely not. Don’t worry Frank, I’ve got you covered. Hey, you wanna come over here first? I think we should start by looking at Craigslist anyway, and then we can discuss strategy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I can either come over now, or head back and eat first …”

“Just come over now! Coffee’s brewing, I’ve got eggs, and actually I do have some curtain fabric here that you might like.”

“Great. Heading your way. Thanks, Karen.”

Even though she said she had coffee brewing, he took the train over to the pretentious coffee shop where he had gotten her his apology coffee before. He knew she liked it. And he wanted to make sure that Karen Page did not regret spending the day with him.

* * *

As it turned out, Karen was frighteningly good at this.

Right as he arrived, she was pulling out the sewing machine. She had pieces of cloth spread out, leftover from old projects. She had him sort through and pick his favorites as she enjoyed her fancy coffee. As Frank made the eggs, she showed him pictures of things she had found on Craigslist, asking for his opinion and emailing the people who had posted. She weaseled his exact budget out of him, and then broke her shopping list down into things she thought were essential to buy today and things he could buy next month. She had even reserved a truck for the day, and by the time they went downstairs to get it, Karen had already arranged three places to go pick up furniture. She was particularly excited about a day bed that could be “lofted”, whatever that was supposed to mean.

“It means you can have the bed on the ground, and use it as like, a combination couch and bed. Or you can have it in the air, like a loft. Then you get the floor space back.”

“But … why would my bed be in the air?”

“Because … never mind. It’s nice when your room is small, you might decide you want that later, this bed is a steal, we’re getting it.”

So they got it.

And with a bed and a minifridge and a set of shelves, they went to the thrift store, and Karen asked him questions that were even more helpful than he expected. True, she groaned when he said a can opener was his most important kitchen item. But he had never considered how big he wanted his bowls to be, or his spoons. He was relieved when Karen told him he could get away with just one pot and one pan for now, since he had no idea why there would be so many different shapes and sizes. He had lots of opinions about coffee mugs but hadn’t thought about much else.

And finally, they bought paper towels and cleaning supplies. And some things Frank had never heard of.

“What’s shelf paper?”

“You put in inside the shelves and drawers as a lining. It makes them easier to clean and keep up.”

“Huh. Yeah, you know, that’s pretty smart.”

Frank had been in the army or married for his entire adult life. He truly had no idea how to do anything they had done that day. He thought they would be done in a couple of hours, but Karen had clearly known better, clearing her schedule all day so that they could move everything in. And she had been wonderful. Frank had only asked half of the questions that had occurred to him, because he knew how stupid he must sound, but she had never made fun of him for asking. Only a couple of times, and always with a smile as she went back to his question and answered him anyway. He felt like he had learned more practical knowledge that day than he probably had since boot camp. And when he wasn’t sure what to do, Karen knew. She was clear and decisive, sure about what to get and how he should set things up. If he started feeling lost, he could look to her for a direction, and he always found it.

By late afternoon, they had cleaned every corner of Frank’s tiny studio apartment and had started to put things in place. The kitchenette’s cabinets were lined and had begun to be filled, Frank was making an actual bed instead of the sleeping bag he had been using all week, and Karen was setting up his coffee maker on top of the minifridge on the wall. He was right – this was intimate. But it felt good, knowing that he had made a place for himself. Plus, he liked having Karen there with him. So for now, he didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant, and enjoy it.

Karen stepped back, eyed her corner critically, and nodded. “I think … yup, I think your kitchen, such as it is, is ready.” She turned around. “How’s it coming?”

Frank tucked in the last corner and checked the surface for wrinkles. “All set here. I think you did it, Karen.”

“We did it, Frank! Congratulations, and welcome home.”

They both looked around the small space. The apartment wasn’t fancy, but already looked much more welcoming as the late afternoon sun faded away.

Karen smiled. “I’m happy with it. And let’s go eat. We’ve earned a chance to sit down and have Chinese food, don’t you think?”

Frank smiled back. “More than earned. There’s a place right down the block.”

When they had settled in to their table, he thanked Karen again for the day. “I really can’t tell you enough … I’ve never done this before. You were a real life saver.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you noticed, but moving into a new place on a budget is one of my special skills, so, I do it a lot, actually! I helped all of my college friends who were close by, and I’ve helped a few people in the city since I got here. I figure, I’m good at it, I’ve had to do it a lot, so why not help, you know?”

Frank nodded. It seemed like there was more to that story, but he didn’t want to pry, especially not after she had helped him all day.

It seemed like his silence prodded Karen anyway. “It’s just … I’m not close with my family. I was, but now … my mom and brother both died. And with my dad … it was just never the same after, you know?”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, thanks. Me too. I’m on my own, in a lot of ways. In college, I was alone. I came to New York alone. But, once you make a life for yourself, a space, find people you care about, it’s not so bad.”

“Speaking of. How’s your lawyer friend?”

“Foggy? He’s good! He’s good. I don’t see him as much now, of course, but when I see him, it’s good. I saw him just the other day, actually.”

“Yeah?” Once again, it sounded like there was more to that story. He waited to see what it was.

“Yeah. Yeah. We were … we were actually talking about Matt.”

Frank swallowed. He had … complicated feelings about Matt Murdock and his associated crime fighting identity. But Matt was dead now, and he knew that hurt Karen.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I had been checking Matt’s mail, and for a while, his bills had been paid, but then they stopped being paid, so I had been picking some of them up, and Foggy wanted me to stop.”

Frank narrowed his gaze. “I mean, that makes the most sense, I think. There a reason you wanted to keep paying?”

“Well, I’m not so sure Matt’s dead.”

Frank stopped breathing for a moment, shocked. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, thinking. Honestly, if he thought about it, she might be right. “They never found a body?”

“No. They never found anything. And you knew him, you knew that he was … resilient in ways that other people wouldn’t be. It’s not that crazy. I mean, you knocked on my door holding a cup of coffee a month ago!”

He forced a chuckle at that. “Yeah.” His mind kept working. “Can you afford that? Paying his bills?”

“It was hard, but now Foggy’s gonna help. He doesn’t want to, but I convinced him for at least another month. I don’t know, Fr-Pete.” She sheepishly looked around, to see if anyone was listening. “I just-I just have this feeling. I had it about you, and I have it about him. I don’t think he’s gone.”

Frank nodded. Karen leaned closer.

“I mean, what did you do? When you had to lay low, where were you going, what were you doing? Maybe I can find him.”

“I had places other people didn’t know about. He won’t go places you know.” Frank paused, considering. “You want me to keep an eye out? In case?”

“I mean … yes! But … are you … doing that anymore? You know, what you and Matt … used to do?”

“No. But I could take a night or two. Check out the Kitchen. Look around for evidence that the Devil’s been by.”

“If you could, that would be amazing. But be careful, and don’t do anything just because of Matt.”

“Hah! Yeah, I won’t.” Frank wasn’t planning on getting into any more firefights with the preachy, judgmental Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Karen nodded.

She changed the subject and talked about work and about his new job for the rest of dinner, and as they walked slowly back to the train, he realized something.

“Hey. When do I get to see you again?”

“Already wondering when I’m gonna finish those sewing projects, Frank?” Karen’s grin was teasing, but he shook his head just to make sure she knew.

“No, just want to make sure that when I learn how to cook something that’s not breakfast food, I get a chance to show it off.”

“I’m looking forward to it! Well, listen, those curtains and pillows are easy and probably will be done in another week or two – can I call you when I finish? If you’re feeling ambitious, you can cook for me.”

“And if I see anything about Matt, I can tell you about it. But it’s probably gonna be Chinese again, if I’m in charge of food.”

“Get dumplings and you’ve got a deal.”

Karen was the one who opened her arms for a hug this time, and Frank, smiling like an idiot, felt all his unease about Murdock fall away. Matt might be alive, but he wasn’t hugging Karen on this particular Saturday night. That was what Frank got to do, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back, smiling and looking right into his eyes. “You are very welcome,” she responded, as she waved and walked away.

When Frank got back to his apartment, not only did he have a bed and shelves and towels, everything in his apartment was now a reminder of Karen. He loved it all.


End file.
